


Escapism

by suartgems



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Inspired by The Hunger Games, Other, Rebellion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2020-10-14 03:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suartgems/pseuds/suartgems
Summary: Ever since the rebellion came to an abrupt end through Katniss Everdeens demise, Panem has flourished in technology yet remained backwards in morality. The games are still going, brutal as ever, and District One is on its route to being a near replica of the early Capitol.The 97th Hunger Games is upon Panem, and from all over the continent, tributes are reaped and taken in, although some puzzled and confused at how fast everything changed.From this, there still lies mystery into Panem in general, how everything began and how everything will eventually abruptly end.





	1. chapter one - reaping

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction on here, and has gone through so many renditions. Everything in this fic is designed to mirror the first trilogy, even down to the character designs, personality, and general theme.

Some may list the end of the Great Battle or the start of Panem at around 3019 A.D. Those few people are incorrect in their assumption, as most people usually are. 

Matter-of-factly, the beginning of Panem occured around 3030 A.D, at exactly 10:45 A.M. It began, just how everything ended, with a flaming dove. 

As strange as that may be, that is entirely how Panem came to be. A dove flying overhead the now Capitol, its ethereal white plumage blossoming with red-yellow flames. This signified the end of the Great Battle, to them. Of course it did, to their primitive brains. 

But who could blame them? Years of destruction and nuclear fallout can do a lot to a society. A bird rising from the ash signifies a lot to them, flaming and dying or not. It signified Hope to them, and Hope is something that can not be replaced by anything in the world. 

Hope. Such a prominent feeling. As directed by most scholars, Hope is often described as "a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen." 

Yet it is SO much more than just that singular definition. Hope governs the human being much more than anyone could ever imagine. It is so important for our survival and yet its simply overlooked and given a one sentence as a description. 

Despite the overlooking, Hope was never truly of importance in Chester Alabany Silverstein's life up until the single pinpoint of kinetic power began its journey of destroying him inside and out.

The day of significance began with a single streak of sunlight on 24-karat window shutters, a luminous golden haze adrift like fog. Dust particles would've sparkled through the air, but the avoxes knew that a speck of dust in the topaz light could easily mark the end of them. The mayor took cleanliness seriously. 

Chess outstretched his palm on the eggplant-colored silk, the fabric rippling under the touch. Eyelids flicked open, amber irises peeking out to gaze at the morning sun. 

It was the day of the Reaping, and that made him unbelievably excited, a surge of energy beginning to blanket over him. 

He leapt up, rushing towards the copper vanity, and sat down. Shuffling through the makeup underneath, he pulled out a comb and a brush, gently setting them down on the metal. 

The comb was a deep, rich violet, the brush being heavyweight wood from a tree near long forgotten District 13. The tree has an abstract rainbow tint to it --- most likely from the heavy amounts of nuclear radiation. 

The boy from 1 gazed at himself in the mirror, his reflection following. Wavy brown hair with copper highlights, amber and turquoise eyes, and a rosy freckled face. 

Chess pulled open another drawer, sliding out contact lenses. He placed them on his eyes, the color shifting to a vibrant golden-amber. Nothing could be less than perfect --- this was the Reaping, after all. He had to look the best out of anyone there. 

After applying concealer to airbrush his face, he began on the winged eyeliner, not skipping a beat. The Reaping began at exactly noon, and he had around an hour to finish. He finished with setting spray, a light aroma of rose and lychee following close behind the spritz. 

Chess walked over to his closet, tilting his head as he ran his hands along the loquat-colored jacket. He began to change, sliding the jacket on over his white undershirt, as well as matching pants and black heeled boots. 

He was complete, and hopefully immaculate enough to his father's point of view. He stepped out of his room, trying to keep eloquent. He walked over to the floors personal elevator, pressing the button for the kitchen. Of course, without fault, the door opened, and he stepped in. 

Once Chess landed on the first floor, he started out, keeping eloquence in case his father or mother was in the room. When he saw his sister, he let out a sigh of relief, returning back to his normal stance. 

"Opal! How are-" 

"Save it, don't act friendly. I know for a fact you stole my eyeliner," his sister snapped. "I spent 30 minutes this morning looking for it, and I barely got done in time." 

Chess nodded, shifting uncomfortably. She >did< look a bit rushed. Her tanned skin didn't even have concealer on it, and she was wearing her dark hair down, rather than up, like Opal usually did for formal events.

"I'm out of my personal eyeliner," he sighed. "Sorry, I just- you know how dad is."

She nodded in agreement, before perking up at an alarm on their living room hologram. 

"God- damn it! We woke up late, and dad's probably already there, welcoming everyone, and he's most definitely going to yell at us for that. What time did you wake up?" 

"Uh, like an hour ago?" 

"That's too late. Next year, you'll have to get up earlier --- me as well. Today's off to a rocky start already." 

With that, Opal started towards the front door, gesturing Chess to follow. He did as instructed, keeping close behind her as they left the mammoth of a house. 

"So- is mom staying or something?" Chess asked, glancing at the vibrantly colored buildings as they passed down the village. 

"You know how she is during the Reapings," Opal replied, sliding a wisp of hair out of her face. "She doesn't like to leave the house during them. She doesn't like to be around the slums here, which I find a bit ridiculous, but my opinion doesn't matter to her."

He silently agreed with Opal. His mother had issues with people outside their social circle or level of wealth, and he found that to be such an irritating thing about her that he had to withhold telling her off. Voicing an opinion like that in the household meant punishment. "And Silverstein's don't take punishment," his father would say, an eerily white smile always decadent. 

They passed by multiple buildings on their way down, each decreasing in size and appearance as they did. Chess' father always wanted to renovate them, but not for a good purpose. He wanted to make the land increase in price, so the landowners would go into debt and be driven out of District 1, just for being poorer than him. 

Chess' gaze hardened as they stumbled across the area, noticing the amount of families already there. They would need to go all the way to the front of the crowd, where children in the upper class like Opal and Chess went. 

He stepped into line, Opal in front of him. It passed by fast, and he was up, a starburst of pain on his middle finger, as the man asked him for his name. 

"Chester Silverstein." 

"Got it. Next." 

Chess dodged through the crowd, struggling to get to the front. He saw Opal, and flashed her a grin. Joy began to surge through him again --- it was his day! His day to shine! His day to bring back more wealth to the family! 

Opal nor his parents knew he was volunteering, of course. "Why do we need more wealth," they would say. "Why can't you just run for office like your father?" 

He didn't want to run for office. He wanted a home by himself in Victor's Village, even a statue of himself along with the other victor's. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing he was good enough to win the games. 

His attention snapped to the stage as his father walked onto it. Looking at him, he always realized the similarities between his father and Opal. They both had tan skin, a prominent nose, and dark hair. They even shared the same mannerisms of moving their hands along while talking and flaring their nose upon annoyance. 

"Welcome- welcome everybody, to the Reaping for the 97th Hunger Games! I hope that every single one of you is having a glorious day. This year, I, myself, will be picking tributes!" Again, another eerily white smile. 

The ground in front of his father slid open, two glass bowls on pedestals rising up. He stepped towards them, leaning towards the right, then moving towards the left. 

"Let's mix it up -- boys first, for today!" 

Chess' fixation on his father broke as that same energy surged through him again. Before the name could even be unfolded, Chess leapt upwards, hand raised, and the words echoed from his mouth like from a microphone. 

"I VOLUNTEER!" 

As he slid back down, he noticed Opals stare. She was hard to read, but from what he could tell, she didn't seem… happy. She seemed upset and disoriented, as if she was caught in looping kinetic energy and then abruptly thrown out of it, her mind slamming on the breaks. 

What was worse was his father's look. Complete hatred and disgust was masked behind a pure white smile, but his eyes said it all. Pure malice. 

Chess stepped up to the stage, peacekeepers flanking him. Once he got near his father, he felt a grip on his shoulder, nails digging into his suit. 

Too-cheery-toned and fake, Chess' father let out a bellowing laugh. 

"Ah, would you look at that! My _rascal_ of a son volunteered! Everybody give it up for Chester Silverstein!" 

With that, people began to clap, and Chess backed up, letting his father select a female tribute. He plucked out a name, but again, before the paper could be unfolded, the same words Chess had said were spat out by a female voice. A familiar one. 

His gaze slowly followed everyone else's towards his sister, and his heart dropped, eyes widened. Panic shook through him like a mantra, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight, struggling to deny reality. 

There was only victor. 

Chess and Opal were two people. 

Only one could make it out alive. 

One of them was going to die. 


	2. chapter two - the train ride

Of course, the first person Chess was greeted by was his father. 

He started into the empty grey room, a fake smile plastered on his face. Once the door closed, the smile switched off, Chess wincing. 

"What. Did. You. Do," he asked, gritted teeth visible and bared. 

"I- I just thought that maybe- if I won, more honor could be brought to the district. To be brought to you." 

"That doesn't matter!" He bellowed, stepping forward. 

"Bring honor to me? I don't want honor. I want you or your sister to sit still and continue this family's legacy. We've been mayor since the rebellion ended, and if you break that chain, there's going to be dire consequences. Do you understand?" 

Chess meekly nodded, not meeting his eyes. 

"Good. Just so you know, your mother isn't coming. I don't want her a blubbering mess for our meeting with the head peacekeeper later today." 

With that, his father was gone, leaving him to ponder why he volunteered in the first place. 

He couldn't die though, surely. He had trained for years. Dying would be disgraceful. 

Wouldn't it? 

Upon arrival to the train, Chess glanced up at his sister, who maintained a hardened expression. 

"Why," he pondered. "Why did you volunteer with me?" 

She shot him a glare, before responding, voice shaky and bizarre due to her normally calm composure.

"You were going to fucking die, Chester. You're extremely impulsive and brash, and you could die. Do you want that?"

"No- I just-" 

"Good. Don't ask me again. It was a stupid decision in of itself, but I couldn't let anything happen to you. Mom would never forgive me."

They entered the train, making way to see an entire feast of Capitol food, plush couches and chairs lining the walls. 

A muscular blonde woman sat on one of them, her green-gray eyes piercing as she turned to the pair from 1. 

"Memorabilia," she said, completely deadpan in her gaze. "I'll be your mentor for this year. Sit down." 

Opal started towards her, sitting down on the couch in front of their mentor, Chess following suit. 

"So.. I'm getting that you two are the mayor's children?"

"Yes ma'am," Opal responded quickly, shooting Chess a look that made the message clear.

_ Let ME do the talking.  _

Memorabilia nodded. "Okay, good. Now, you have a certain standard you absolutely have to follow at all times during your time in arena. You have to protect each other, but also stay prissy. Be annoying. Be EXACTLY how the Capitol expects you to be, but also keep each other close at all times. You have to be the last two tributes."

Chess got up as Memorabilia kept talking, staring out the window at the slowly shrinking skyscrapers of District 1. 

His father was no doubt upset with him, wasn't he? He could almost picture him, decked out in ivory white, arm in arm with his mother, her marigold colored dress billowing in the wind, her expression grief stricken as they both announced with a heavy heart how both of their children had failed to be victorious in the quarter quell. 

His father would say it, his face concealing the sheer rage and aggravation, bright white eyes almost glowing from anger, hand tightly clenched on his wife's arm as if he needed to hold onto something. 

_ ding. _

Memorabilia got up quickly. 

"We've arrived to the Capitol! You're lucky you live so close," her gruff voice echoing across the train cart. She started towards the windows, Chess barely even taking in the millions of people yelling and laughing and greeting them until Memorabilia pointed them out. 

"They're here for you, dears. They're all here for you, and expect one of you to win. So," 

She gave one final look at them before the train stopped completely, a mass of glass buildings and brightly colored shoppes now only in sight. 

"Win for me."


	3. chapter three - stylists

Chess grimaced as the strips of wax paper were ripped off, clenching his fist. 

His stylist had two assistants, and they were a handful. He didn't have a stylist, nor any assistants other then the avoxes back at 1. 

The one who waxed him seemed to sigh in relief. 

"Lord. Thank goodness you're cleaner than the other ones -- I've heard HORROR stories-" 

They had dark skin and curly blue hair down to the small of their back, as well as electric blue eyes that bore into Chess as they spoke.

"Mhm," Chess responded, sliding up. 

"Is my stylist here," he asked. "I'm just wanting to know what we're doing for the para-"

"Yes yes, the  _ parade _ ," another assistant spoke, her wavy bright green hair cropped to her ears. 

"Aziraphale will get to you shortly, love. He's quite busy with other clients - he's doing 12 as well this year."

Chess nodded, lying back down and waiting, closing his eyes. 

He kept wondering and wondering what the Capitol was like now -- he'd only been there once as a kid, but it had never been as nice. Everything here seemed to be about him -- and that never happened his first round at the city. 

The buildings were bright in hue and advanced in architecture, colors flooding his eyes at every glance. Everyone acted as if they were withholding some sort of secret, speaking hushed yet somewhat determined. 

_ rrr-iii-ppp _

Chess jolted, huffing in frustration.

"Are we-"

"YES, we're done, " the green-haired one sighed, voice tinny yet exasperated. 

"Aziraphale will see you in around 30 minutes. You'll love what he picks for you, I'm sure."

Chess nodded in agreement and laid back down once more, letting them wheel him to a sleek room with aluminum walls and no furniture. It seemed like an odd place for a stylist to do his job. 

He waited there for a while, until he jolted up to the buzzing of the silver door phasing open. He turned to see a thin man with caramel skin and dioxazine irises. His wavy hair was dyed a blue-to-pink gradient, and he wore a simplistic white suit and pink and blue accents. 

"You must be the mayor's son. Chess, correct?"

Chess nodded. 

"Aziraphale," he said, holding out a hand to shake. 

Chess took it, shaking it.

"You're a bit young to be doing District One -- are you that good?" Chess pondered. 

Aziraphale scoffed.

"You could call me that. As you may have heard, I'm doing 12 this year as well. Ever since the rebellion, there's been.. a  _ lack _ of stylists for a better word."

The rebellion. A sliver of fear shook through him, and he crossed his arms. 

Almost any good capitolite would refuse to talk about what happened, but Chess was luckily able to watch the video of the 74th, where it all started.

He always pondered what would've happened if Cato had killed off Katniss and Peeta instead of the other way around. Would anything change? What if those blasted berries hadn't made it into the arena design in the first place? 

"..Yeah. I can see that. Anyways, what are your plans for my chariot outfit?"

Aziraphale started to pace, biting the inside of his cheek. 

"I originally wanted something grand and new -- a refreshing idea people haven't seen before in District One: but I'm afraid the Capitol is iffy about that sort of thing. I may just do a suit for you and a dress for your sister -- touch up some makeup. Make things fresh."

Aziraphale quickly started towards the side of the wall, tapping his fingers in a sort of pattern. Instantly, a panel of glass jutted out, almost like a tablet. 

"Your clothing will be ordered soon. I'm thinking of something simplistic and luxurious - white suit, white scarf, jewel-encrusted cufflinks. While we wait, tell me about you. What are your interests, your hobbies?"

Chess struggled to remember -- coffee? He liked coffee. He kind of liked painting, but wasn't good at it. Makeup, maybe. 

"Just.. everything, I guess. Painting, makeup. Art stuff."

Aziraphale nodded. 

"Interesting. I'll keep that in mind for your interviews."

Within an instant, his clothes arrived. All of it was white except for the opalescent glow on the cufflinks and buttons. 

Chess raised an eyebrow, and Aziraphale shrugged. 

"I'm on a tight schedule, and you and your sister are very important to the Capitol. They haven't EVER had two children of one of the mayors as tributes. Many are excited to see how you fare in the arena. Sit still while I do your makeup-"

The man walked over to the wall once more, tapping it. It opened up, revealing dozens and dozens of palettes, foundations, concealers, the works. 

He began to start on Chess' face, penciling in the eyebrows, then starting on the eyeshadow.

After about 30 minutes of waiting, Chess could open his eyes again. 

He turned to the mirror, noting the blend of rainbow shadows to help balance out the opal accents on his outfit. 

"It looks… nice. How'd you do the eyes like that?"

"Concealer to cut corners and erase mistakes. Lots of primer and a bit of coconut oil as well."

Aziraphale looked at his glass-tablet thing, pursing his lips.

"45 minutes until your chariot ride. I still need to work on your sister, so I'll be back in a bit. You can go wait in the lobby."

With that, Aziraphale left, the door automatically shut behind him. 

Chess started out as well, walking towards the elevators. He paused, feeling some sort of anxiety bubble up in his gut. 

Why was he so nervous? The other tributes wouldn't care about him. They were just pawns anyways. Pawns he could throw aside to win the games. 

So why was he so worried they wouldn't like him? Find him awkward or weird? 

He fought back the nervousness, stepping into the elevator. He pressed the button for the lobby, exhaling. 

You'll be okay. You'll be fine. 

The elevator arrived, and Chess stepped out.


	4. chapter four - the parade

Needless to say, he wasn't sure what to expect from it. 

Everyone there looked generally normal - the tributes from 2 looked brutal, the ones from 5 sly and mischievous. There didn't seem to be any abnormalities. 

Except for him, right?

A stylist bumbled past him with a "sorry!" and Chess withheld snapping at them, clenching his fist. These people didn't seem to understand personal space or something. 

He saw Memorabilia pacing in a crisp white suit, her curly blonde hair in twin dutch braids snaking down her back. He walked over to her, and she exhaled in some form of relief.

"Okay- I was worried you'd be late. Aziraphale has an awful habit of making his tributes late to just about everything. Your sister should arrive shortly, but I don't know. If she doesn't, Aziraphales going to hear it."

Chess nodded, and turned right as his sister made her entrance, walking in with an identical white dress, white scarf, and jewel-encrusted accessories. Opal crossed her arms, sighing as she walked up to them. He noticed how bland their outfits truly were - was Aziraphale right? Did the Capitol not allow that much creativity anymore? 

Memorabilia patted the back end of a white horse, before turning to the two siblings. "Okay, when you get up there, gush at them. Smile and wave, do everything you can - make them all fall in love with you. You need sponsors out in that arena, and for sponsors, you need adoring fans. Now get up there and knock their socks off, or I'll go and do it myself," she smirked. 

Chess got onto the chariot, Opal grabbing him by the shoulder and steadying him so he wouldn't fall. She wouldn't look him in the eye for some reason, averting her gaze to look down. She had been silent for most of the day. 

"Are you still mad at me?" He asked, frowning slightly. "I mean- I understand why, I just really want to know. I'm s-"

"Just- save it, Chester," she huffed. " It's fine, I guess. I just don't want for you to get in trouble with dad or mom. I'm nervous both of us will die or one of us will win and get treated.. differently. You know how mad Dad can get." 

He nodded, barely realizing their chariot was taking off. They were up first, their horse trotting down a tunnel. He could hear the hundreds of cheering voices, dozens of different mantras and voices cheering their names. 

"District One! District One! District One!" 

Chess could barely keep up with everyone he saw as they entered the city. It was a whirlwind of colorful hair and painted faces, all shooting past in the blink of an eye. He almost has to hold his breath. 

He turned to Opal, who stood frozen. He quickly turned away, letting her calm herself back down. The amount of people yelling and screaming was always something Chess had gotten used to, but Opal never seemed to be able to. She tightened her grip on the side of the chariot, before they inevitably came to a stop. 

Chess waited and waited, occasionally glancing behind him before spotting the president herself, up on a pedestal in the City Circle right in front of her mansion.

Peony Snow was a middle-aged woman with silky auburn hair and startlingly blue-gray eyes. Some people thought they were pretty, but Chess always felt uncomfortable seeing her gaze on the T.V. 

She smiled down at all 12 chariots, before tapping the mic. Peony began to give a grand speech on how wonderful all the tributes are and how sad she was she had missed last years games. 

Eventually, she finished, and Chess could feel his chariot moving again. They were first to arrive, now first to leave. He stared at the bright lights decorating the deep plum sky, how he wished there were more stars in the Capitol. 

They arrived back at the lobby and Chess stumbled out of the carriage, Memorabilia grabbing his shoulder to keep him from falling. 

"I'm surprised they didn't throw any flowers at you - I guess this year was kinda a bust, huh?" 

Chess nodded, and accidentally bumped into the boy from two. He was tall, muscular and had hawk-like features, dark hair slicked back to reveal bright, bright blue eyes. He gave Chess a glare, before walking off towards his district partner. 

"Okay, we're going," Memorabilia said, beginning to hurry them out. 

"What- why-" 

"I'll tell you later, just do as I say."

Chess hurried behind Opal, and glanced behind his shoulder to see the pair from two looking intently at him, the boy retaining a slight smirk. Weird.


	5. chapter five - the apartments

Ultimately, Memorabilia was still quite cautious on everything surrounding the pair from two.

“Those two are dangerous. The boys name is Ultramarine - his sister won last year after resorting to cannibalism when the gamemakers decided to unleash a famine.”

Opal furrowed her brow, “He’s related to Thyme Sonoma? Her, of all people?”

Memorabilia nodded, “the girls the daughter of the head peacekeeper of 2, you probably don’t know him. Aura Ladon.”

Chess began zoning out, his mind drifting away towards the fact that the french onion soup provided was getting cold. The food there was more or less better than anything they were able to make back home, which was nice. 

“Chess?” 

He jolted, looking at Opal and Memorabilia. 

“We were saying that we think that we should make a plan for your training. There is going to be a lot of attention on both of you, due to your circumstances. Other tributes will be looking as well to analyze your strengths, especially Aura and Ultra. Opal, you mentioned you know how to work a bow?”

She nodded, “That’s mainly what I had to train with back at 1. I doubt I’ll be able to get one at the cornucopia, though.”

“You have to try. You should also consider the fact that there may not even be a cornucopia,” Memorabilia stated, throwing her hands up a bit. “They’ve done that before, where they’ve taken out all the weapons and scattered them throughout the arena. I hope they keep it a normal arena.”

“Yeah-“ Chess intervened. 

“Aren’t they planning on a special arena for the Quarter Quell? They do one every year. So they should have average ones in the years leading up to it.” 

“Exactly,” she nodded. “They should keep it simple. But besides all of that - what was your specialty during training?” 

Chess took a moment to think, looking down at his soup. “I mean- I liked throwing axes? They’re easy for long distances.” 

She snapped her fingers, “Great! Now, show that off when you're there. Don’t hold back - intimidate them by how good you are. “

——————————

The bathrooms were different. 

They were much more diverse in style and aesthetic- the moment he opened the door to his bathroom a neon blue hologram materialized, asking him to input data. 

On the left side of the screen was a color wheel, and Chess automatically slid over to a pale pink, before shaking his head and pressing on a honey yellow. The screen shifted, revealing questions. Underneath them was a keyboard.

What is your favorite style?

Favorite scent? 

Would you like a bath, shower, or both? 

He furrowed his eyebrows, typing on the screen. In moments, the hologram phased into the floor, revealing his bathroom. 

The walls were the same shade of honey yellow he had picked out, contrasting with the Roman styled marble columns that had been on option on the screen. There was a walk in shower on the right corner of the room, a white rectangular shaped bathtub on the left. 

Yellow stained glass covered the ceiling, depicting floral designs in shades of saffron and chartreuse. Chess stood in shock, placing a hand on the marble to be sure everything was real. 

It felt real enough, but still took his breath away. He had lived in 1 his whole life in luxury, but he hadn't seen something this grand just appear like that. Or appear at all. 

He got into the shower, turning the temperature to nearly blistering before noticing the vials of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. 

He had chosen honey and orange as his favorite scents, and they had somehow captured that in the products. He wasn’t complaining. 

When Chess was done, he stepped out, noticing a fluffy yellow robe hanging next to the shower. He slid it on before making his way to the corner of a room where he FINALLY saw something he could recognize. 

There was a long, transparent blue pedestal, the shape of a hand flashing on the top of it. He placed his hand on it, and an air current ran through his arm and up the top of his body to his hair, drying it thoroughly. 

Walking out of the bathroom, he sat down on the bed in the center of his room, taking in the view of the Capitol in the glass windows outside. The stars were out, shades of pale gold and alabaster speckled among the evening plum and prussian blues. He could see neighborhoods in the distance, dwarfed by gleaming skyscrapers. 

He’d truthfully only been to the Capitol a few times, when his father had to meet with other mayors and discuss business. He had only been allowed in the hotel they stayed at though, as his mother didn’t want them to explore the cities and potentially get lost. 

Momentarily, he forgot about the games and the carnage that was certainly ineluctable. The stars were more important.

Falling asleep, Chess kept note of the LED lights dimming in his room, the low yet constant hum of air conditioning. Things were so consistently accessible in the Capitol - even more so than in 1. 

He hoped that it would be like that if he got out alive.

————————————— 

Chess hated alarm clocks.

Sure, they were efficient. Maybe they got him out of bed on time and maybe he liked the feeling of waking up early.

What he didn’t like was the neon blue hologram ringing in front of his face, startling him to the point of nearly falling off of the bed and banging his head against the headboard.

He cursed, moving up from the bed and towards the desk at the very front of the room, noticing a pair of loose white joggers and a matching shirt with the symbol of the Capitol on them in a crisp navy blue.

He slid them on, before moving towards the bathroom and brushing his teeth at the daffodil-hued sink. His hair looked fine enough, so he slipped on slippers and made his way towards the dining table. 

Breakfast included heaping servings of cheesy eggs, sausages, batter cakes, toast smothered in butter and what he presumed were blood orange and peach preserves, and shredded potatoes. 

He had to take a moment to gather himself before Opal passed him, flicking him on the ear as she sat herself down at the dining table. She had on the same uniform, hair pinned back into a braided bun. 

“Are those sausages?” She asked, immediately grabbing a fork and placing food onto her plate without waiting for an answer. 

Chess sat down next to her and began loading up his plate before realizing Memorabilia had walked in, wearing a blue sweater and sweats. 

“Howdy! Okay, how are we doing? Plans today?” She spoke quickly, sitting down in a seat and reaching for the eggs and toast. 

He piped up, “Okay- I kinda have a question. How did all the food get here and everything?”

“A.I.” His mentor said, before taking a bite out of toast. “They had servants do it a few decades ago, but discontinued that process. A waste of tech, I guess. The rebellion really screwed up a lot of the systems we had set in place” 

Opal then decided to begin usual banter, talking about her apartment and how great everything was, Memorabilia answering the occasional question. 

He tuned them out again, focusing on his food and what he was doing for the day.

How would he respond if Ultramarine and Aura wanted to speak to him? Memorabilia wanted him to keep cordial and act high and mighty, but how could he do that when they intimidated him that much? If he made one wrong move in the arena, they could and probably would go right into betraying him and stabbing him or Opal whilst they slept. 

Once breakfast was finished, he got up, Opal following. “Where’s training again? First floor?” 

“First floor,” Memorabilia replied, nodding back. “You’ll find the center. Remember what I said - keep calm and show off. Intimidate them. Prove that you’re worthy to be allies.” 

Chess nodded, opening the door as the two walked out and down the hall to the elevator, trying to contain his anxiety. He had to prove he was worth an alliance. Be cordial yet show off. 

Opal pressed the TC button, and they descended to the first floor. 


End file.
